Tapestry
by GorgyPorgyGregoria
Summary: Killian Jones was sixteen when he caught his first glimpse of one Emma Swan; it was 8:15 on a Sunday morning at Granny's.
Killian Jones was only sixteen the day Emma Swan came to the dingy old town of Storybrooke. It was 8:15 in the morning and Ingrid ushered her nieces Elsa and Anna into Granny's for their usual Sunday breakfast; with a timid blonde teenage girl following slowly and closely behind, green eyes guarded yet shifting back and forth like a frightened animal. By the time the four of them sat down the information had spread through the entire town like wildfire, and by lunch time the talk of Ingrid's latest foster kid was so exhausted that it was practically considered "yesterday's news."

Killian had seen the blonde girl around town that Sunday, but it was on Monday, the start of school that he really got a good look at her. She was only a grade younger than him and had such a sour look to her features, that even Belle, the sweetest person Killian knew in this town, avoided her in the cafeteria and hallways.

It must have been difficult for Emma to adjust, especially since the only people she knew in town were basically going to be unavailable to her for six hours straight. Elsa and Anna had graduated the year before, and while Anna took classes at the community college in the next town over, Elsa helped her Aunt run the ice cream parlor. So Killian watched as the entire school gave the girl a wide berth, and a sudden sense of stabbing guilt in his gut started to arise every time he glanced over to the Swan girl.

He understood too well; having been the new and awkward kid on the block in 9th grade, when his brother, Liam, practically dumped him on relatives and then shipped himself off to the Navy to make a living for them both. He got being alone, and knowing absolutely no one outside of his household, and as he sat in the lunchroom, the buzzing of students surrounding the atmosphere, he seriously contemplated going over to the new girl to give her a -what he hoped was a less than awkward- warm greeting. Of course, the bell had rang for 5th period AP Calculus, and he really needed help solving a certain problem on last night's homework -so the meet and greet was shoved aside in his brain as he made room for knowledge. He decided to think nothing of it and as the days went by, and less and less people gave Emma a wide bubble space, it seemed his guilt and concern was misplaced.

At least until a month later. Emma Swan was placed in two of his classes, and before and/or after each one she was either escorted or she skipped class with a certain group of people.

Jefferson and August weren't entirely awful. Jefferson was a pretty down to earth guy when you got to talking to him one on one, but once all the attention shifted towards him, all bets were off, and it would pretty much be like watching a rerun of _Jack Ass_ , circa 90s. August was the laid back sort of guy, so long as you didn't lend him money or get wrapped up in his thrilling tales that clearly depicted false facts and even less than true events... Killian could _almost_ forgive that one story August spoke of the time they shared in the men's restroom.

So no, August and Jefferson were completely harmless, if not for a few personality setbacks, which was expected for teenage boys of their age. The real issues of the group were Lily and Neal. Lily all on her own was trouble, whether it was because of years under her tyrannical dragon lady of a mother, or just the plain fact that she had no idea how to take responsibility for her own actions; Lily tended to just keep making decisions that landed her in fucked up situations that clearly showed that she lacked in obvious common sense.

And then there was Neal, the richest kid in all of Storybrooke with father issues that put Killian and Liam's to absolute shame. Sure, Neal was a pretty cool guy, but between he and Jefferson hot wiring Cora Mills' BMW so they could take a joy ride down Main Street like they were in some action movie with Jefferson hanging out the window riding shot gun, or openly shoplifting at _Dark Star Pharmacy_ with Lily, Neal Gold was someone you just steered clear from unless you were looking for trouble.

Sadly, Emma Swan never got that memo on the first day of school, and Killian wondered if he had bothered to take the time out of his academic schedule to get to know her, could he have helped her to avoid the soon to be budding chaos. Sighing internally Killian thought, _too late_ , as Neal Gold casually slung his arm around Emma's neck outside of their 7th period European History class.

It was official, Emma Swan was a goner, and Killian Jones decided to do what he did best, wash his hands clean of the whole ordeal and make it through one more year of this sea of hormonal infested rats. And why shouldn't he? His grades put him at 3rd of his graduating class, which made it more likely that he would leave this podunk town when he started putting in his college applications at the end of this coming summer. He already mentioned two colleges to Liam and that he wanted to take a road trip to visit while his brother was on leave for the summer. All this made leaving all the more tangible. So tangible he could almost taste it… almost.

When the next historical project was announced to be done in pairs, Killian had thought he'd get partnered with Belle, the two of them always pulling top marks for every project they worked on together -it almost felt like cheating. But instead the names "Ms. Swan" and "Mr. Jones" were announced together, and disbelief was so deeply embedded in Killian that he had to look across the room to Swan to make sure he heard the teacher correctly. Sure enough, Emma Swan's green eyes were looking back at him, the perpetual dour look permanently plastered to her face.

~;:;~;:;~

Of course, Emma had noticed him, it was sort of hard not to, the kid had a British accent in an American high school. Although that seemed to be a natural occurrence in Storybrooke, Maine, between Belle French's Australian accent and Mr. Gold's Scottish brogue, it would have been a shame if Killian Jones' flowing British accent wasn't part of this menagerie of a town.

When Emma asked Neal about Jones, he only shook his head. "Odd, guy, that one," was all he had supplied her with, before scarfing down his breakfast burrito.

Lily wasn't any help either. She only shrugged and called him ' _some bookworm person.'_ August said the only interaction the two of them ever had was when all the urinals and stalls were occupied except for the urinals next to his, and Killian was kind enough not to look over (Emma had to walk away once August started talking about the glimpse of what Killian Jones was packing -and apparently the female population would be sorely disappointed).

Jefferson was the only person who supplied her with at least some decent information. He told her about the move from the U.K and the brother in the Navy. It was clear that Killian Jones didn't really get close... Killian Jones, as Jefferson recounted, was polite yet distant from the rest. Bookish, but not uptight about it. "Honestly, he was just like any other teenager trying to make it through high school."

Emma realized she could relate a little. She didn't have parents either, and she kept her distance. The rest of his story s seemed nice; particularly his having a relative working hard to give him stable environment to live in. She was a "Ward of the State" and really that might as well mean jackshit as far as she was concerned. A moment of jealousy gave Emma a moment to wonder what it would feel like to have what Killian Jones had. Ever since she could remember she had been bounced around from foster home to foster home, it seemed that the only constant theme she ever had to rely on was that they would eventually get too tired of her and simply pass her on to the next. Emma learned very quickly that it was never a good idea to get too attached, because the inevitable was soon to happen and she would have to pack up her bags and leave. It's why she held herself at arms length from everyone, regardless of Ingrid's gentle nudging of getting Emma more involved, or Anna's chirping enthusiasm or even Elsa's soft knowing looks. Emma Swan didn't do close and personal and just because she moved to a tiny town where everyone knew everyone else's business did not mean she was about to start. So she tried not to feel that tug of jealousy or a sense of familiarity… or just anything when she thought of Killian Jone and his situation. Orphans they may be, but he still had one person to depend on -Emma only ever had herself.

And then 7th period European History placed them in pairings for a stupid project, and Emma only had to look across the room to see Killian Jones fixing her with a hard stare from those light blue eyes of his. Either she wasn't going to remain indifferent at all, or he was going to make her want to murder him -only time would tell.

"I was thinking that we should meet after school today in the library." Is the first thing Killian Jones says to Emma as she shoves her books into her bag. She looks up from her spot, hand in mid-shove and scrunches her brows together at his lacking form of a greeting. The second thing he says to her is clearly no greeting at all, and Emma realizes that he is just business. "I think it's best if we start with the material that we are learning now, you're only in the third quarter of school, and it doesn't seem fair to start a project on a topic that you haven't gone through yet -especially since the easiest way to get an A with Glass is to really let certain details be more prominent than others. And you'd have had to be 'round to pick up on those topics."

Emma isn't sure if she should be annoyed, or if she should be amused. Jones is looking anywhere but at her, and his words are rushed as if he wants to get this over with as quickly as possible. A sharp barb is on the tip of her tongue, but instead Emma finds herself nodding. "Okay."

At that he looks at her, his eyes looking straight into hers and there has to be at least some sort of Surgeon General warning label to go with those eyes of his because his gaze is so heavy and intense that Emma's heart is pounding so quickly that she isn't sure if she is having a heart attack or not. Is it possible to get a heart attack at sixteen? She's never really had anyone look at her so fiercely and it honestly quite nerve wracking. Emma is so accustomed to people looking over her -that little orphan girl that didn't matter- that to have someone look at her, _really_ look at her, makes her wonder if she really truly ever wanted the attention at all.

Then, as if he wasn't bearing into her very soul, Jones seems to get the answer he was looking for and gives her a firm nod, but his tone is rather gentle when he speaks. "Excellent. 3:30 pm, library, please don't be late, Swan."

It's with those words, and that tone that Emma realizes that Killian Jones doesn't expect her to show up, he doesn't expect her to give any sort of participation on this project much less any sort of feelings regarding a high school history assignment, and that is enough to rile her up. She watches with her hands clenched tightly to her side as he's about to take his leave out the classrooms doors. _Now or never_ , Emma finally decides and shakes herself out of her shock, calling out what she should have said in the first place when he came up to her making his demands. "You know I was taking this class back when I was in Portland. Maybe the teaching methods weren't the same, but I'm pretty sure I'm well caught up on high school European History from Medieval times to what we're learning of WWI. If the attention to small detail is the focus on this project, you could just give me your notes to look over."

She holds out a hand, and stares Killian Jones straight in his profoundly blue, blue eyes, refusing to let it rattle her. He opens his mouth only to close it again, and just silently places his backpack on the table in front of Emma's bag and begins to dig through it for his notebook, handing it over to her once found.

She smiles at him, and gives her thanks, "3:30pm at the school library."

She zips up her back and just walks right out of the classroom without a second glance. It's nice to know that she can render Jones speechless, at least now she knows now to avoid any sort of gaze or look distributed from his blue eyes.

Neal doesn't seem to understand, and quite frankly, Emma doesn't either, but there is something about Jones that is nagging at her and making her feel all sorts of unbalanced and mixed emotions. Not to mentioned extremely irritable since his unspoken assumption that she would be some slacker. Emma can admit to being a lot of things, but lazy is not one that she can add to the list. So when she tells Neal she'll be working on an assignment after school today as they make their way across the street to _Dark Star_ , his lack of comprehension shows in a very unattractive fixture on his face.

"But aren't you working with Jones?" he asks as the chime above the door noted their arrival. They split into aisles, their eyes slowly scanning over the snacks.

"You two should be in class." Emma hears Clark's barely audible voice, it was usually hard to discern the firm tone from his stuffy nose. She has come to learn that the drug store owner's nose will forever be stuffed up, allergies of some kind always affecting him. She isn't sure if it is a blessing for him, or if he should just get into another line of business since he can still never speak without sounding like something is forever stuck in his nose.

"Yeah, but what does me working with Jones got to do with anything?" Emma looks at a bag of Hot Cheetoes, then fingers the cheese puff next to it.

"He's pretty much the smartest guy in school. Behind Regina and Belle," Neal shrugs, "He'd get you an A just fine without you needing to be there."

"I'm going to call the truancy officer if you both don't show me at least some authorization that you should be out of school right now!"

Emma ducks her head once she sees the cookies, her eyes immediately going for the shortbread. "Just because he can get me an easy A all on his own doesn't mean that I want him to get me an easy A all on _his own_."

Emma realizes too late the double entendre that was uttered, and glancing over at Neal, she can see that he is about to make some snide remarks about easy A's when Clarke explodes from his perch behind the counter, reaching for the phone beside his register as he yells. "That's it! I'm calling the school!"

Neal looks away from Emma and sets his eyes on the drugstore owner, planting a charming smile as he puts his hands in his pockets for the forged permission papers.

"No need, got signed papers here from Nurse Ratched herself," he waves the paper with the obvious scribble August calls handwriting in front of Clark's face, but Emma can tell from the look on his face that he isn't buying what Neal's selling, which is natural because Emma can tell that Neal has done this particular song and dance one too many times.

"I see the paper, but I'd rather hear it from her mouth alone," Clark says through narrowed eyes and still reaches for the phone.

Inhaling sharp, Neal makes a face. "I don't know if she'd want to be bothered. Last I saw her she was headed over to the pool, some accident with one of the water polo players… it's actually why she sent us down here, we had to get ice. We thought we get some snacks while we were at it."

"I don't know-"

"Shit," Emma says loudly, and glances down at her bare wrist. "Neal we gotta go!"

Spinning around on his heel Neal looks at Emma with wide eyes, "Is it that time already?"

"Yeah, if we don't go now we're gonna be late." Emma is already reaching for the door.

"Shit," Neal curses and starts following Emma, calling over his shoulder, "See you around, Clark!"

The minute the door closes behind a yelling drug store proprietor, Emma and Neal break into a run all the way back to the Storybrooke High, never stopping until they find themselves behind the large gym building, where Lily and August are waiting, a cigarette dangling from the lips of the former's mouth as if she were some Pink Lady extra from _Grease_.

Neal doubles over with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath, while Emma leans against the nearest tree breathing heavily through her nose. Sliding her bag off her shoulder, she unzips it with shaky fingers, revealing the goods that she managed to shove in there.

Inspecting the bag of chips, cookies and large bag of gummy worms, Neal looks up to Emma from his spot on the wall and he gives her a massive grin, his hazel eyes shining with approval, "Good haul."

There is a moment that passes between her and Neal, and Emma can't help the little patter in her heart when he is grinning so brightly at her like that. She'll admit that she may like Neal a little more than the others, but she knows better than to follow that emotion, especially since her time spent with him has an expiration date. Still, so long as she doesn't act upon it, she can allow the little skip in her heart, so long as it doesn't become an ache or -Lord forbid- longing.

"Yeah, yeah, good job newbie," Lily rushes, promptly causing Emma to break eye contact first and start on the gummy worms, "Whatcha got, Gold?"

Neal gives an over dramatic sigh, and empties his own own bag revealing two 40 ounces of beer, a handful of SlimJims, a box of strawberry Poptarts, and a couple of premade sandwiches.

Lily levels Neal with a glare, "Where the hell is my pack?"

"Couldn't grab it; Clark is getting smarter and actually stays behind the counter," Neal explains. "'Sides, all his attention was on me the minute I walked into the store, couldn't really create a distraction without him realizing it."

"You're useless to me," Lily huffs, and takes a long drag of her cigarette, then offers it over to August.

"So you keep saying," Neal mutters, then looks around, "Where's Jeff?"

"He and Lockesley got caught smoking pot by Coach Jim in the gym closet," August drawls lazily, "I think I heard Principle Mills muttering something about drastic measures and parents to be called."

"And he didn't invite us?" Neal sighed, shaking his head.

"To the execution or hotboxing the gym closet?" Emma prompts with a mouthful of fruity worms.

"Look who's finally warming up to us," Lily appraises with a smirk. "So you coming with us to to the clock tower after school?"

Emma opens her mouth, but it's Neal who answers for her, grabbing one of the beers and opening it, "She's got a study date with Killian Jones after school."

Emma scrunches her brows together as she watches him take a deep chug and pass it over to Lily.

"It's not a date!" She insists.

Neal waves her off, "Just blow him off -I think they added a new padlock to the back door of that abandoned library and I just got this lock picking set off eBay that's itching to be broken in."  
"I can't do that, it's a class project," Emma insists, as Lily passes over the can over to her. She takes her own deep swig, the bubbles fizzing through her and the bitter taste of the ale coating her tongue. She passes it over to August who declines.

Lily pulls a face, "Just let Jones do the project for you. Even though he has an immaculate GPA, he can't fail a class project just to spite his partner."

Neal gives Emma a pointed look and makes a gesture towards Lily. Rolling her eyes, Emma addresses the other girl, "You clearly speak from experience."

The brunette shrugs, "I had Chem with him last year, I may have skipped class sporadically for a week. Somehow I got an A for the project even when I didn't do jack-shit."

And that's the moment Emma feels bad for Killian Jones. So she grabs the cheese puffs and the cookies, stuffing them back in her bag, and slings it over one shoulder before she makes her way towards the school library.

"Well, I don't believe in getting credit for something I had no hand in," Emma announces, and walks away with her head high. She can hear the calls of mockery from the others, but she ignores them all, because now she feels she has a point to prove.

For Emma Swan's entire life, people have been trying to tell her who she is; simply by the surface she presents to the world, and by sixteen she has steadily refused to let others define her by her appearance. It's clear to Emma that Killian Jones has already set an idea of who he thinks she is, and as uncomfortable as she is around him, she is determined to change his thoughts of that notion. In some way unspoken way, Jones pushed her into a challenge, and now she has this overwhelming need to push back. After all, Emma Swan doesn't take loss very well, and as petty as it is, she'll be damned if she loses to some blue eyed nerd.

~;:;~;:;~

Killian is packing up his backpack when the bell to his last period ends. Glancing at the clock on the wall behind the teacher's desk he notes that that he has exactly 15 minutes until he meets Swan in the library… that is, _if_ she even shows up -which he highly doubts.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts over his soon to be disastrous meeting with Emma Swan that he barely paid attention in his American Lit. class. It was quite possible that he missed out on the dramatic reading of the _Crucible_ , and an even more dramatic rant in disguise of an "intellectual discussion" of character themes by his teacher, Mrs. French. He has no idea what her latest point of interest is today, and he wonders if he has enough time to pick French's brain to at least get a hint of what the lecture (rant) was about.

Before he has time to even ponder how best to approach his teacher, a well manicured hand slams down four pieces of well formed notes on the day's lesson right in front of his desk. He follows the arms of the hand and knows exactly who it is before even reaching her face.

"Your Majesty," he intones as he looks at Regina Mills, her dark regal features are poised in such bitter annoyance that were he anyone else, he'd feel bad for the pet name. But he isn't anyone else, and although her mother is principal of this pathetic sham of a school, he couldn't feel intimidated by her if he tried.

"I get that you're part of the top 5 of our graduating class, Jones, but the least you could do is at least trying to make an effort to show that you aren't some freak genius." It has taken Killian a better half of a year to realize that Regina will say almost nothing nice as a form of encouragement or a compliment. It took even less time to realize that most of her bitterness stems from her overwhelming mother who clearly wants Regina at the top of everything. As much as she jokes about _him_ being some teenage genius; Regina is not only valedictorian of their graduating class, but she is also the student body President, a participant of extracurricular activities not just at school but around town as well, not to mention the Homecoming Queen 2 consecutive years in a row. It's a wonder to him how she still manages to still look so immaculate without a hair out of place. _Dark magic_ , he muses, it's the only explanation that makes sense.

"So I'm assuming that you are, what, handing over your notes to make me seem like less of a mastermind?" Killian muses, taking the notes after she removes her hand and scans her neat handwriting, all the key subjects outlined in such a well organized fashion that if Killian had been paying attention, his own notes would have looked just as beautiful and adequately formulated…

"Your image is everything, Jones," Regina sings in an almost uncanny variation of her mother, and Killian has to scoff. It's then that something quickly clicks in his mind, even he is surprised at how instantaneous it was for him to come to this conclusion.

"You want something," Killian states simply, and he watches as Regina's face immediately goes from playful to a stern serious. Her lips purse together, that one eyebrow of hers is raised… yet she doesn't set her brown eyes on him, instead she looks at the table between them, as if the table would reveal all that she needs to be revealed.

After a moment longer she looks back up at him, her eyes steady, and her stance defiant, as if she were ready for him to argue. "As you know, the Spring Dance is two weeks away…"

"If you're here to ask me out, you can have your notes back," he states simply, only to watch as Regina's face screws up in irritation.

"No, you idiot. Like I would degrade myself to going with _you_." Killian has to admit, that stung a little.

"For someone who obviously needs a favor, you're doing quite a stunning job of insulting me instead," Killian has a moment to look at her, and then he shakes his head and puts her notes back down sliding them over to her, "You can have your notes back, luv, I'll manage all on my own."

He turns to leave the classroom, but Regina flanks his right, and keeps up with his quick steps, "Look, if I could trust anyone with this, it's you, Jones."

Killian stops walking, and so does Regina, they turn to look each other in the face, Regina looking past his shoulder, and nodding and planting a diplomatic smile to whoever passes. "I'm sorry for being derogatory towards your person and you can take the notes regardless of whether you decide to help me or not."

Killian squints down at her, "You really need this favor done, don't you? Or else you wouldn't be standing here apologizing, and practically _groveling_ at my feet."

Regina's eyes twitch, and he sees her curl her hand into a fist as if wanting to have it fly across his face, but he has to applaud her self control, because although her voice comes out a tiny bit strained, Regina keeps herself steady, "Hatter and some other hoodlums got caught smoking it up in the gym closet today."

The news somehow disappoints him, mainly because he's sure that if Jefferson were involved, so was Neal and the others, including Emma. Which also means that it's likely that she really _won't_ be in the library waiting for him. Still, that doesn't stop him from giving Regina an impatient look, "This concerns me, because..?"

"He was supposed to supply me a healthy dosage of sleep medication; instead he is sitting in my mother's office most likely getting scolded for something he will probably get caught doing again next week," Regina rolls her eyes at that last bit, and Killian can't help but share the sentiment.

"And now you want me to break into his locker and see if he was stupid enough to stash it in there," Killian finishes for her. He knew that this was going to come back and bite him in the bloody arse. Ever since Regina caught him breaking into Locksley's locker in 9th grade, he knew that the cool calculated smile Regina was giving him from her place down the hall was her filing such information away for later. And as they stood toe to toe, he knew that it was much, much later. He wants to reject her, to simply tell her that he didn't want to do her dirty work, but there is something desperate in her eyes, and Killian has such an odious soft spot for desperation, especially when it regards Regina. "What's the purpose for this sleeping agency?"

Regina puts on a dignified look and holds her head high, "If you must know, it's for my mother."

Killian can practically feel his eyes bulge out of his sockets.

"For you-" he scrubs his hand down his face, then lowers his voice, "Your bloody mother? Are you bloody insane?"

Instead of being her usual defensive self, Regina let's her mask slip, and suddenly she looks like any other teenage girl, not the reigning Queen of the school.

"I just want to go to the dance with Daniel, and mother doesn't approve of him just because his family isn't of some dignified name or any prestigious standing, and I…" she looks him square in the face and there is something in those light browns that has Killian Jones giving more than an ounce of sympathy for Regina Mills, "I know it's super cliche, and quite possibly a dumb teenage fallacy… but I just want to go to the dance with my boyfriend for once."

Killian has a moment to stare at the brunette with her shoulders slumped and her head hanging low, and he just doesn't know what to do, so he scratches behind his ear and says the first thing that pops into his mind. "Yea, well then, lass, going to the ball with your beau you shall."

Her eyes snap up at that, and she seems to be bubbling with uncontained excitement, "You mean you'll do it?"

"Aye."

Regina breathes out a sigh of relief that just so happens to take her whole body with it, and her face is so brightly lit up with a genuine smile that for a second Killian hardly recognizes her. "Thank you, Killian."

Killian has to look away, and gives her a small smile to her gratitude. "Think nothing of it," he waves her notes with his left hand, "Least I can do for these notes."

"Yes well," Regina is trying to collect herself, but he can tell that she is much too happy to go back to being a bitter and snarky bi- Queen. "I'll call you if there are any changes. Otherwise, the sooner the better, please."

Nodding, Killian watches as she power-walks down the hall, her head held high, with clearly a skip in her step. He shakes his head and turns in another direction to the library, keeping a slow steady steps as he plots out his plans to infiltrate the locker. Although he highly doubts that he'd find any narcotic-like substance in there since Jefferson only got caught today and it's more likely that they already opened up his locker and cleaned it out; Cora Mills is a bitch and a well organized and systematic one at that. The safest bet is to break into the Vice-Principal's office and if Killian manages to stay at school long enough under the slight pretense of prepping for a History project, he is more than likely to find Regina's sleeping drug… but first he's just has to make extra sure that Jefferson's locker is indeed clear, no need to take the extra dangerous step without being entirely cautious.

Now if only Jefferson and company had been so wise. How insipid must one be to get caught on school premises? Killian had at least the slight hope that his history partner was going to show up in the library, but alas, he must prepare himself for disappointment. Swan seemed like such a smart lass too, and maybe a part of him was ready to see if she was going to prove him wrong, but clearly he put a little too much faith in her, and now he would have to do this project all on his own. Again. Or he could possibly ask Glass if he can just do the project solo, which he didn't last time, and he felt the burn of doing all the work and having to share the credit.

He'll go to Glass first thing tomorrow…

Or maybe Killian Jones should just learn to stop jumping to conclusions, for sitting at one of the smaller table in between the book aisles is one Emma Swan, her thick framed glasses balanced on the tip of her nose as she poured over the notebook he handed her earlier that day along with the class book wide open alongside her pastel yellow binder; her pen poised over the paper -obviously making her own notes.

He stands there for longer than should be polite, just gaping at the image before him, and he has to wonder if he should pinch himself, because he assumed…

Emma's eyes finally look up over the rim of her glasses, her index finger poised at the spot she was clearly scanning earlier and her other hand has the pen hovering over the piece of paper. They stay like that for longer than should be socially acceptable; green eyes are locked onto blue, clearly waiting for the next move the other would make, and then Emma blinks back down to her book, her eyes screwed to it's pages, and tucks both hands under her thighs breaking whatever it was that caused them to pause and just stare. Scratching behind his ear Killian to finally make his way over to the table.

He stops short, his eyes still trained on Emma who is now occupied with rifling through her bag, producing an opened package of cookies.

"Study food?" She asks, holding the package out to him in offering. But he ignores it.

"You showed…" he breathes, whether in relief or shock, he isn't sure, and then he only has to look at her emerald eyes to realize that she's gloating a little, especially when he sees a tiny hint of a smirk playing at her lips. That's when the relief he may have felt earlier slowly dissipates to irritation, the emotion blazing through his veins. He all but slams his bag down on the table, making Emma startle, her smirk dropping along with that gloating glint, and without giving her time to recover Killian let's all his simmering thoughts just burst out.

"This isn't a game," he hisses, keeping stern eyes trained on her, "I don't know what you think you're playing at, luv, but there are actual people that cares about what happens to their grades, and if you're just here out of complete spite, then you might as well take your damn books, and your bloody cookies and walk right out the library doors, because frankly, I don't have time for it."

Emma's eyes are wide as she stares at him, mouth agape, the cookies held limply in her hand. For one horrific moment, Killian thinks he may have gone too far, and Emma would really pack up and go. He honestly didn't know what was wrong with him or why it bothers him so much if she were to leave… but it does and if he is completely honest, he doesn't want her to go, he isn't sure why but he just doesn't want her to.

"Okay," is all Emma gives him, looking down, and finally letting her hands drop, his stomach dropping with it. Perhaps he did push too far, and an apology is on the tip of his tongue until Emma speaks before he does. "Look, if you didn't want any cookies, you should have just said so."

Of all the responses he expected, this was not it, so he slumps into the chair, and just continues to look at Emma with utter astonishment as she reaches into the packaging and pulls out her own cookie, and proceeds to munch, her eyes now seeming to scan her notes.

"I was thinking of doing a newspaper theme, since Glass seems to insist on the press, judging from the notes you take," she says with a mouth full of cookies. Swallowing, she continues, "But I figured since it's fairly obvious and everyone will most likely being using it, we can use the next best way of news -although word of mouth is pretty difficult to really present in a project with just two…" she shifts through the papers in her binder until she comes to one she was looking for, "Tapestries should do it, I think, for the early 19th century. What better way of spinning a tale of the turn of the century than actually spinning a tale?"

"Why?" Killian blurts out, and Emma snaps her head up to look at him, confusion in her brow.

"I just explained to you why, Jones. I really don't like repeating myself."

He shakes his head, "No, why are you still here? Why are you sitting here discussing tapestries and news?"

Emma blinks and her face is unreadable. "Because we're partners in a project," she states simply. "But if that isn't a good enough reason, I'll have you know that I may have started this in order to prove a point, but it seems that you're pretty serious about," she gestures to the desk, "all this… and well, I'm not an asshole."

He stares at her for a second longer and slowly settles in the chair. Exhaling loudly, he nods to himself, then looks up at her. "I think tapestries is a wonderful idea, Swan."

Emma beams over at him, and extends the package of cookies over to him yet again. He takes a cookie as Emma just simply says, "Louis, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

He doesn't dare correct her on her mis-quotation, mostly because he enjoys that she felt the need to quote _Casablanca_ at him at all. Instead, he gives her a mock-stern face and says through a mouth full of cookies, "Get back to work, Swan. I expect an A on this project, anything lower and you can consider whatever this is over."

Emma has the audacity to salute him with the package of cookies still in hand, "Aye, Aye, Captain!"

At last Killian smiles despite himself.

~;:;~;:;~

They manage to get a B+ on the report.

Belle and Mulan somehow came up with the idea to start a blog spot for the Renaissance to Enlightenment Era and Emma has to admit that the effort put into it deserved nothing but top marks. Besides, since neither Emma nor Killian _could_ actually weave together a tapestry, they had to make do with their best artistic skills.

(That still didn't stop Emma from throwing colored pencils at his head when he started getting too bossy. And even then, Killian was still polite enough to give her the last cookie, or chip, or last anything for that matter -although, with a saucy wink he would add, "Well I was raised a gentleman, darling.")

Still, after the project was finished, and their B+ shining proudly over each other's heads; Emma and Killian continued their tradition of studying together in the library after school.

Emma found herself, for the first time since she could ever remember, an actual, genuine friend in Killian Jones -and she had to admit, it was nice.

* * *

 **I jumped into the OUAT fandom three years ago, and I am now officially it's trash (more specifically Captain Swan trash. Obviously). About a month ago, I was going on a Carole King binge, and the lyrics to some of the songs on the album _Tapestry_ sort of just jumped out to me. It made me write this... and I have been sitting on it since, too scared to post it... I may or may not have written a little more into this little AU world, but they aren't really completed, so for now this is going to be a one-shot. I hope you guys enjoy it, leave a review to let me know what you really think. **


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